


Crumbling castles make interesting ventures

by Banana Bard (Geu23)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fairy Tale Curses, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geu23/pseuds/Banana%20Bard
Summary: He whipped around towards her, his snarling face going slack as his eyes widened in shock.He looked like he knew her, his mouth opened as if to speak but the chanting grew louder, and the light blinding. There was a loud pop and a terrible scream rang out.Cirilla lives in the shadow of her parents' deaths and destiny. Queen Calanthe will fight destiny herself to keep her granddaughter safe and she's found a way to do just that.
Kudos: 7





	Crumbling castles make interesting ventures

1256

She’s five years old when her parents kiss her cheeks goodbye before they leave for an ocean voyage and never come home. Her grandmother was inconsolable for many nights, her screaming echoing through the stone walls, the staff whispering in hush tones as they witnessed their cunning, unbending queen suffer the loss of her only daughter, their lovely Cintran princess.

Cirilla is ushered into her room, her own sobbing and crying mostly shushed by her mother’s lady-in-waiting or by her grandfather, when he manages to leave grandmother for a moment. He tries to comfort her, singing Skelligean nursery songs and holding her close, telling her she is cherished and loved and adored. That he’s sorry that there’s nothing more he could do, to help her or grandmother.

She could not understand why her mother would not come back, she kept asking when her parents will come home or when she’ll be going to join them. No one would answer her questions and it all came to a head one night.

Cirilla is on her grandfather’s lap, a book open before her displaying his proud history, of mothers and fathers that had ruled his homelands in the sea. 

“Grandfather?” She looks at him; “Why have mother and father not returned? Do they not want to come back?”  
  
She feels his chest stop for a moment, his face paling as he quickly glances at grandmother, who had stopped her writing. He swiftly looks back at her, his dark eyes sad. “Oh sweetheart, they’re not coming back. They can’t come back.”   
  
“But why? Is someone keeping them? Don’t they miss us?” she asks in a small, trembling voice .

“Oh sweetheart, no. No one is keeping them. They’re gone.” He had closed the book, tugging her closer and holding her tightly against him. She wraps her arms around him, hiding her face in his shoulder. “They’re gone, Cirilla.”

It was quiet for a moment, just the crackle of the fire filling the room. And then,

“Will I have to go to them instead?”

“No! Absolutely not!” her grandmother yells at her, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she forcefully pushes away from her writing desk. “They’re gone and never coming back! But you’re here and you’re not going to see them for a long, long time! Not if I have any say in it!”

Tears cloud her vision and her chest hiccups at the shock of hearing her grandmother raise her voice at her, and she starts crying. “But I miss them so much, I want them home!”

The queen herself is crying now, taking her granddaughter from her husband’s arms. “I know, I know, I wish for that too but sometimes.” She takes a deep breath. “Sometimes things don’t work out the way you want them to. You just… You must keep moving, never staying still and always adapting.”

They’re all crying now, grieving over the loss of their family lost at sea. That night, Cirilla sleeps with her grandparents, her face wet and swollen but surrounded by safety and warmth and love.

* * *

After that night, things start to settle but there are whispers in the halls; more guards walking through them and there was even the occasional mage or sorcerer - something the staff were shocked to see. 

Cintra has had a hard stance against non-humans, since before Cirilla’s birth, so for the staff to see anything or anyone magical was huge (besides Mousesack, he’s always been with them - he teaches her interesting things, like which are the best mushrooms to pick and sometimes not so fun things like math, ew). They take care not to say anything where grandfather or grandmother can hear, but they aren’t too careful when it’s just her.

She hardly pays attention to the adults and their scandalised whispering, she is far more interested in what Mousesack is working on. He has been assigning her a lot of homework as he did his own, pulling many thick tomes from the shelves but not really finding what he was looking for. 

“What are you looking for, Mousesack?”

“Hm?” He hums, eyes faraway. He has been staring at the same page for a long while, his finger poise to turn to the next one.

“Mousesack, are you alright? You haven’t moved in for- _ever_ ,” she says, wiggling a little as she holds up her very complete paper sheets. “I even finished my math homework, here!” 

The druid blinks, slowly placing the book down. He takes her homework, his eyebrow climbing into his hair. “So you have, princess. Let me have a quick look.” 

Ciri watches him, frowning a little as she notices how tired he actually looks. “You look very tired. You should rest more, you’ll get more grey hairs at this rate.” 

“Which you have no doubt contributed to yourself,” he says, gamely. He gives her back her papers, sighing deeply when he looks back at the book he was reading. “I’m afraid I have much to research and figure out first before I can rest properly, princess. Your grandmother is very determined to have this project of hers completed as soon as possible.”

“What are you working on?”

Mousesack hums, shaking his head. “Nothing for you to worry about, dear girl. Just something for the adults to fret over.”

Cirilla huffs, very unsatisfied with his answer but knowing better than to try asking again. Mousesack never tells her anything too serious anyway.

He stands, tidying up the table, “let’s go outside for a while, the weather is warm enough to be pleasant and I’m sure you’ll like it.”

She cheers, jumping off her chair. “Can you teach me how to make a daisy chain, Mousesack? Please! You must teach me!”

He laughs, “Of course, princess, whatever you wish. Then afterwards we can focus on subtraction.”

  
  
“No, no more math today!”

She grabs his hand, swinging it back and forth as they leave the library. “Math is important, dear girl.”  
  
“It’s so boring! Can we do something else?”

“History then?”

She pauses for a moment, gives it a thought and then nods, “okay, history then.”

The big book that is history. There’s so much that has happened, so many kings and queens who made their mark, in Cintra, on the Continent! She is a hundred percent sure that her grandmother will have her very own chapter in the history books! Unlike Cirilla’s own mother, the beloved Princess Pavetta lost at sea.

Maybe she can ask more about her own mother during the lesson. No one ever talks about her and Cirilla wants more than anything to know who she is, was, had been. Her chest hurts and her eyes are starting to ache, but she’s not going to cry today.

She’s already cried so much, and grandmother has already stopped, so she should too. She’s a big girl and she’s going to be queen one day, so she needs to be strong. Cirilla shakes herself free from her thoughts, giving Mousesack a wide smile. 

But right now… Right now, she’s going to learn how to make daisy chains! 

* * *

1260

There is a flurry of activity, guards running up and down the dark halls as they urgently carried messages and weapons from one place to another. Staff were told to stay in their rooms, as well as the other guests of the Cintran castle. Cirilla herself was in her room, with grandfather.

“What’s happening?” She’s staring out her window, watching as torches dash to and fro, the sound of the guards and their clanking metal boots echoing in the courtyard, slightly muted behind the thick glass.

“Come away from the window, beloved. There’s nothing going on,” he says, gently. He was by the fireplace, one of his prized hunting dogs leaning against the daybed as it was being groomed with a fine brush.

She turns to him, frowning. “That’s not nothing. Something is going on!”

He shakes his head, giving the space beside him a firm pat. “Come here, Cirilla.”

She makes him wait a moment before huffily walking over and sitting beside him. The dog ignores her, enjoying the soothing strokes of its brush. 

“Is there a battle to be had? Is that why grandmother isn’t here with us?”

Her grandfather stops his brushing, setting the comb beside him as he turns to face her. “No, there is no battle. I think Calanthe would rather it was one.”

Cirilla leans forward, her frustration melting away. Would he actually tell her?

“Then what _is_ happening?” 

He takes her hands into his, rubbing his thumb against the back of her’s. Grandfather looks her in the eye and gives her a small shake of his head, his mouth tight. “I’m afraid that I cannot say, your grandmother has forbidden it.”  
  


“But why?!” Anger was bubbling in her stomach, her frustrations returning to her tenfold. “I’m not some invalid or a stupid girl, this has been going on for a long time and now, suddenly something’s happening!” 

Grandfather gives her a stern look, his hands squeezing her’s tightly for a brief moment. He wasn’t impressed at her ire, but then again, he’s had to handle her grandmother’s inferno, nothing compared to her small embers. 

“It’s for your own safety. That’s all I’ll say on this. And I implore you that you do not approach your grandmother on this. It’ll do no one any good.” 

She pulls her hands away from him, standing up and leaving him on the daybed. Alright, fine then! They want to treat her like a child, she’ll certainly behave like one then!

“Cirilla-!”

The door to her bedchambers slams shut behind her. She leans against it, her eyes welling up with tears. 

For as long as she could remember, no one would tell her anything. Oh, she knew that something delving in magic and chaos was going on behind closed doors. Despite her grandmother’s hatred of non-humans, with Mousesack being an exception, she was meeting with and talking to many, many mages and sorcerers.

Always in hushed, urgent tones as they all looked for something. Something to save her from some destiny that shadows her every step, just waiting for the chance to overtake and consume her. 

With a sharp twist of her fingers, she locks the door behind her and, ignoring her grandfather’s pleading, she prepares for bed. 

* * *

_Cirilla found herself in a clearing, surrounded by tall bare trees, their branches like claws reaching for the night sky above her. There is an intricate circle underneath her covered feet, diagrams of entwining circles and alchemic symbols written within._

_She quickly moved out of the circle, clutching her dark blue cloak tightly. What was happening? Where was she?_

_A hum was building, starting off softly before growing in intensity. There was a bright flash, the sound of steel meeting steel and a figure dashed into the clearing._

_“Wait-!”_

_Her warning came too late because as soon as the figure stepped into the circle, it lit up a bright violet light, trapping him within._

_It was a man, but one she had never seen before. His hair was white, his eyes a deep amber and he was snarling at whoever was behind him, beyond the circle._

_He was dressed in all black, a sword strapped on his back and another gripped tightly in his hand. The man - was he a man? Something more? - was trying to find a way out of the circle, but it was futile. He was trapped and completely surrounded._

_People walked out from between the trees, their faces hidden by their hooded cloaks and their hands bright with chaos. They were chanting in an old language and the circle underneath him was burning brighter and brighter._

_“Stop this madness! He’s done nothing wrong!”_

_But it seemed that no one could hear her. All except for the man in the circle._

_He whipped around towards her, his snarling face going slack as his eyes widened in shock._

_He looked like he knew her, his mouth opened as if to speak but the chanting grew louder, and the light blinding. There was a loud pop and a terrible scream rang out._

* * *

She jolts awake, her chest heaving for air. What was that? She touches her face, feeling sweat sticking on her cold skin. 

The dream - was it a dream? A vision? - was already fading but she knows something terrible has been done. 


End file.
